


We All Have Days Like These

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: No parent wants to be caught crying in front of their children.





	We All Have Days Like These

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in October. This is a bad hot mess. I guess I just had stressed out Batdad and comforting batbabies feels I dunno. Dick and Tim let Titus into the room when they arrived. Tim moved Damian onto Bruce’s chest, and Dick tucked them all in and kissed all their foreheads, including Bruce and Jason, much to the latter’s annoyance. Damian’s injuries bothered him a few times while they slept but Jason took care of whatever was bugging him to let Bruce rest.

It felt like he barely made it back to his room. One of those days, he figured as he dropped like dead weight into his bed, where nothing really went his way. Not personally, not publicly. Not in any job he pretended to have. Batman, businessman, father.

His body hurt. His soul hurt. His brain hurt. _Everything_ hurt. He didn’t remember why, didn’t really care. Didn’t think there was actually much of a reason at all. Just a hard day. A bad day.

Batman’s no good, very bad day.

But he was allowed that, right? Everyone has bad days, even Bruce Wayne, as much as he pretended he didn’t.

But the prickling in his eyes didn’t lie. The sudden need to blink constantly didn’t lie. The growing blurriness of his vision, the tightness of his throat, the slowly shuddering breaths - none of that lied.

But no, Batman didn’t cry. Batman didn’t _feel_. So he threw his arm across his eyes, dried those tears before they fell. Focused on enveloping himself in that all-encompassing, numbing blackness, like always.

Whimpered in the dark, alone.

The world was too heavy today. Too much. He wished he could go back, be young again. Carefree. No responsibilities. Surrounded by love, happiness, the life everyone envied.

He just wished his mom and dad were here.

He felt the tears escape from underneath his arm, roll down and melt uncomfortably into his ears. It was getting harder to control, harder to pretend he wasn’t upset, wasn’t exhausted beyond words. Wasn’t about to burst.

He just wanted everything to stop, just for a few minutes.

But it didn’t. It couldn’t. That wasn’t how the world worked. Just as, try as he might to stop them, whines escaped his mouth, the little sounds echoing just so slightly in the spacious, empty room.

Echoing just a little – but loud enough, _distracting_ enough, that he missed the footsteps in the hall, and the not-so-hushed voices. The jiggle of the door handle, and the quick swish as it was kicked open.

“…and now Alfred’s going to have to disinfect that.” Jason was humming. “Your toes are disgusting. Like clip your nails or something, damn.”

Bruce jumped at the intrusion, and quickly, embarrassingly, began almost frantically attempting to wipe his face.

Because his sons couldn’t see. No, his boys couldn’t see how weak their father was, crying alone in the dark.

There was a scoff. “Put me down, you idiot.”

“No.” Jason returned, taking a step into the room. “Hey, old man.”

“Wha…” Bruce sniffed, hoped it sounded like he just woke up, not the alternative. “What, Jason? What do you need?”

“Your baby’s a stubborn asshole.” Jason sighed dramatically. “Refuses to take his pain meds, or rest or do anything Alfred told him he…” Jason trailed off. Bruce heard Damian give a questioning hum, but Jason ignored him. “…Bruce? You okay?”

“Yeah, I.” Bruce kept trying to wipe his eyes, still tried to make it look like they woke him, even though he knew Jason had already seen right through it. But he still could fool Damian. He could still pretend he could fool Damian. “I’m fine.”

He sniffed again, took a deep breath as he lowered his hands, sat up onto his elbows. Damian was clinging leisurely to Jason’s back, chin hooked casually over the elder’s shoulder. His feet were bare, save for the bandage that started mid-foot and disappeared up into his pant leg. That bandage matched the ones Bruce knew were also littered across his back, shoulders and chest.

Those tears prickled again. Because Damian got hurt tonight. Damian got hurt protecting _him_ tonight. Damian was almost lost to them all _again_ tonight, and that thought alone caused his heart to break so badly he couldn’t _breathe_.

“Father?” Damian whispered, and Bruce’s gaze jerked up to his face. It was open and thoughtful. Concerned. He glanced to Jason, who had the same look, but more intense.

“I’m fine.” Bruce repeated, shook his head, pushed the darkness in his mind back. “What’s wrong?”

Damian frowned now. “ _Nothing_.”

“He won’t listen to Alfred, he refuses go to bed until Dick and Tim get back from patrol, he’s in pain but won’t admit it so he’s cranky, and he just opened your door with his smelly feet so I’m about to puke all over your floor because of how disgusting he is.” Jason countered.

Damian immediately drove his knee into Jason’s ribs. Jason shouted and jerked to the side, before reaching one of the hands holding Damian’s legs up to smack at his butt.

“Don’t _make_ me drop you down the stairs, you little punk.” Jason threatened. “And I _will_ steal your dog for the night. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Boys.” Bruce sighed before Damian could respond. To his surprise, both of them listened, turning their bright green eyes back towards him. They watched him for a moment, silent, those eyes near glowing in the darkness. And Bruce’s heart hurt more, because he knew why their eyes were greener than they should be. Knew it was his fault, along with everything else that led them to the waters of Lazarus. More failure from him, he failed his children, failed those he loved _most_ -

Suddenly, Damian started squirming. “Todd, put me down.”

“No.” Jason mumbled automatically, never taking his eyes away from Bruce. “You’ll hurt yourself worse.”

“ _Todd_ -”

“Bruce, what’s wrong?” Jason cut off, but gently.

“Nothing.” Bruce lied. Wiped at his eyes again, pretended to yawn. “Just…it was a very long day, and you two have woken me up.”

But it was clear Jason didn’t buy it. And Damian’s continued squirms and attempts to be released confirmed he didn’t either.

“What happened?”

“ _Nothing_.” Bruce pushed. Pretending some more, and wasn’t that just his life? Pretending all the time. Pretending to be a hero, pretending to be Bruce Wayne. Pretending to be a good father. Pretend, pretend, pretend. “Why do you think something _did_?”

“Because I can see the tear tracks on your face, dumbass.” Jason scolded. “We both can.”

“ _Todd_.” Damian snapped sharply, eyes flaring, most likely at Jason’s language towards their father. “Put. Me. _Down_.”

“No.” Jason hissed back. “Like I said, you’ll just hurt your ankle worse-”

“On the _bed_.” And with a smirk of his own: “ _Dumbass_.”

“…I hate you.” Jason muttered, but complied, stepping closer to the mattress. With a lot more care than his sarcasm suggested he would have, he gently lowered Damian to Bruce’s side, only stepping away when he was confident in Damian’s safety.

Damian glanced up at Jason. “Now you.”

“…What.”

“Go sit on his other side.” Damian sighed, like he was talking to a child. “And don’t even _think_ about leaving Father in this state, or I _will_ chase you.”

“For the millionth time, your _ankle_ -”

“ _Go_.” Damian ordered as he twisted himself further into the bed, and subsequently into Bruce’s side. And to Bruce’s surprise – Jason complied. Sighed incredulously, but stomped around the bed and plopped down next to Bruce, nonetheless.

“Bruce.” Jason murmured, reaching across Bruce’s lap to lift the blanket, assist Damian as he got more comfortable. Damian didn’t say anything about it, and even allowed Jason to re-tuck him in as soon as he got his legs situated. “Really. What’s wrong?”

“Just…long day. I wasn’t lying to you.” Bruce repeated. Damian looked up at him thoughtfully, and Bruce found himself smiling, despite the pain still in his heart. Gently, he put an arm around Damian’s shoulders, ignoring the feel of bandages through his shirt. “I’m so sorry you got hurt today, Damian.”

Jason looked between father and son for a moment before snorting. “No offense, B, but I hope you’re upset about more than that.” He nodded to Damian. “He’s the toughest Chihuahua I know. It looks bad sure, but he’ll be alright.”

“It’s the principle, Jason.” Bruce sighed. Closed his eyes as he pulled Damian closer, and ducked his face into the boy’s hair. “He’s my child – you’re _all_ my children. I should have done better, as your father. As Batman, I never should have let it get that far.”

“Father, while I don’t ever want to agree with an imbecile like Todd, it appears I have to.” Damian hummed. Bruce felt him lean against his chest, and he felt his soul relax, just a little. “Today was not your fault in any way, so you should not be blaming yourself for it.”

Bruce didn’t respond, other than to shake his head. He couldn’t put it into words, at least not in a way his sons would understand, or in a way that wouldn’t put the burden on them. So he just kept his eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep breath that was bordering on shuddering once more.

He could feel the tears at the corners of his eyes again. God, no. He couldn’t start crying again. Not in front of his boys. Not in front of these two, of all people.

“Hey. Bruce, hey.” There was a hand on his arm, and Bruce almost jumped as his eyes flew open. Jason was ducked into his line of sight. “We’re right here, okay?”

Damian silently wrapped his arms around Bruce’s torso as tight as he could.

“And we’re not going anywhere. At least, not as far as I know.” Jason smiled, like he used to, like he was fourteen years old again. Sweet and warm and far too kind. Jason glanced at Damian, who was staring right back at him, and to Bruce it seemed like the two had a quick, silent conversation. “…Do you want us to stay in here with you?”

Bruce shook his head once more. “No, you don’t have to-”

“I asked do you _want_ us to?” Jason cut off, stern, but soft. Jeez, if the criminal underworld could see the Red Hood now.

And Bruce…hesitated. He could keep pretending, say he’s fine. Knew the boys wouldn’t believe him, but would respect his wishes. Jason would pick Damian back up and carry him to bed. Damian would sulk until Dick returned home and relieved Jason of his big brother duties.

But…

“…If you don’t mind.” He whispered sheepishly. “That’d be…nice.”

“Okay dokey.” Jason hummed instantly. Suddenly he shifted, began attempting to kick his boots off, while waving one hand wildly at Bruce. “Scoot.”

Bruce did, just a little. Kept Damian tight in his arms. Watched as Jason tugged off his jacket too, pulling something out of one of the pockets before dropping it on the floor and curling up into the pillows next to him. He shook his head when Bruce tried to offer him some of the blanket.

“Someone’s gotta explain to Dick why we’re all in here when they get back.” He explained, wiggling his socked toes as he opened the object he’d pulled from his pocket – a book. “And I give Damian four minutes before he’s out.”

“Yeah, _right_ , Todd-”

“No more attitude, young gremlin, or I’ll tell your dad that the only reason I was carrying you up here is because you’d already fallen asleep in his chair in the cave twice.” Jason glanced at the youngest with a smirk. “…Oops.”

Damian huffed in annoyance, ducked his face against Bruce’s side in embarrassment.

“And you need your sleep.” Jason directed towards Bruce. “So I’ll stay up and wait for everyone. No worries.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but found he didn’t know what to say. Thank you? You need your sleep too? That’s not your job?

“You’re safe, B. Everything’s okay. We’re here.” Jason murmured, as Damian dutifully pulled the blanket up Bruce’s chest and gently tucked him in, fluffed up his pillow as he reluctantly laid back. “We got you.”

 _They shouldn’t_ , his mind supplied. _You’re the father and here your children are protecting you. You’re a failure. You have to be better. You have to-_

Damian silently slid his hand in Bruce’s, and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Bruce exhaled, and felt like it was the first breath he’d taken in years. Clear and clean as he pulled Damian tight to his side and rested his cheek on the boy’s hair while staring gratefully up at Jason.

He was asleep before he could thank them. There were no nightmares, or dreams of any sort.

When he woke, it was to the sounds of birds, and Titus’s tail as it thumped against the floor while he watched them through the window. The sun was just barely rising.

He shifted to inhale, and found a pressure against his chest. A comfortable weight. He glanced down to find that the weight was Damian, sprawled across his torso, fist curled in the comforter that covered them both.

Jason was still next to him, the book open on his lap, though under a blanket that had been fluttered over him. He was asleep now, using Bruce as his personal pillow.

Tim now occupied the space where Damian had been, also tucked under the comforter, also curled tightly to Bruce’s side. He wasn’t holding Bruce’s hand – Damian still was, actually – but had both his arms curled around Bruce’s one.

Beyond Damian’s hair, He could see Dick at the end of the bed, using Bruce’s knee as his own pillow, curled into his own covers. Unlike his brothers, he was awake, though barely. He was watching Bruce, and gave him a sleepy smile and wave, when he realized he was being watched back.

“We got you, Bruce.” He repeated, in a mockery of Jason. “Go back to sleep.”

Bruce felt those damn tears pricking at his eyes once more, but not in sadness this time. In joy. In love. In absolute, all encompassing _happiness_.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, closing his eyes once more.


End file.
